Things Unsaid
by Vatican City
Summary: Because Xiang is dutiful and traditional if nothing else. Taiwan/Hong Kong, hints of sexual intercourse and drug and alcohol use.


**Title: **Things Unsaid

**Summary:** Because Xiang is dutiful and traditional if nothing else.

**Pairings:** Taiwan/Hong Kong, can be considered one-sided.

**Disclaimer: **This piece of fan-fiction was written for pleasure and not profit; Axis Powers Hetalia is the creation of Hidekaz Himaruya. The characters are fictionalized and do not reflect reality as we know it. Any similarities to real people are coincidental; my depiction of Hong Kong is also fictional, however vague it is.

* * *

_Let's get married, she says, for the (he can't remember)th time._

_He nods instead of smiling, because it's just him and he knows she won't be offended, and closes his eyes._

_And remembers (because it's not worth forgetting yet)._

* * *

He's only a small boy when Yao finds him in his lands, and he can barely conjure the image of a young Yao bending over him curiously. His childhood years are all a blur; when he looks back, he can only remember golden eyes, rice paper, and the smell of plum blossoms.

When he finally wakes up to himself, he is looking at a man with hair lighter than he's ever seen, a sheet of odd characters in front of him. He bends down over it obediently, and doesn't bother to wonder where the years had gone. He knows, well enough for him to live with himself.

When he has dreams of a girl with a plum blossom tucked in her long hair, however, he thinks he has the right to know. It would be fifty long years of change for Xiang before he gains the right to know.

_

* * *

They get married (again) in a nice Catholic church where he can step outside and see his skyline. It is an informal (small) gathering of family (and no one else, because Yong Soo had tried to hang himself again)._

_"Do you, Hong Kong, vow to take Taiwan as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"_

_Japan approves (enjoys, like the older brother to Taiwan he is,) of their union; Xiang can see it in his gestures, the way he looks upon them: Taiwan, resplendent in her white (used too much) wedding dress (looking bare without a plum blossom tucked in her long, long hair), and Xiang himself, proud in his tuxedo (he rents a different one every time; grey this wedding, because white is _so_ last year). _

_"I do."_

_"Do you, Taiwan, vow to take Hong Kong as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"_

_China holds no opposition to their ceremony, time after time, and even foots the bill every other occasion, because he knows (they all know, and Xiang just despises him for not putting up any resistance) it is meaningless, merely child's play. Centuries have made him wise, and impartial. His voice is quiet but resonating in the church's excellent acoustics, and isn't it just_ splendid_? (says Taiwan with a giggle, again and again.)_

_And Taiwan, as she always does, beams and says, "I do."_

* * *

"Welcome back," Yao says with a smile and a grimace. Another old sibling, another heartache. Xiang empathizes, but he cannot sympathize. They are apart in their pain.

He never quite moves in with Yao, but now his brother pays more visits to his home, often with strange presents: a traditional fan, an odd roll of fine silk, and, once, water dumplings that taste unfamiliar. He enquires (British spelling, please!) on Yao's cooking, but receives no reply except an invitation to visit his house when everything has settled down.

He smells plum blossoms in the spring now, and thinks he is _close_.

_

* * *

The ring slips on her finger like it was made for her (it is – but Xiang is a romantic, so he doesn't bother to add that part) and he leans down, only slightly, to kiss her. She tastes of bubble tea and plum blossoms, and he is home._

_When they part again, they are the only ones in the church. Xiang plucks a pink blossom from the altar and tucks it into her hair (and she is miraculously whole). Saint Bartholomew glares down at them from the wall as they exit the church, hand in hand._

_The ring glitters in the Hong Kong skyline._

* * *

Knowing the plum blossom girl is strangely anticlimactic; Xiang imagines something more fitting in his half-asleep stupors, when it is spring and he can smell her namesake hovering in the air like one of Japan's odd _kami_(s?).

Instead, it is winter and Xiang's just slipped in the icy rainwater again, and he is starting to wonder if snow would not be better. Yao has remarked on his weather every time he visits, however, and Xiang is dutiful if nothing else and counts his blessings often.

And she is there.

He barely sees her, a flash of pink and black silk, before she is gone again, but the scent of something sweeter than plum blossoms linger in his nose long after. He gazes after her, and wonder when they will meet again.

_

* * *

"Surprise me, Xiang-xiang," Taiwan giggles, the blossom brushing his nose (the fragrance sours) as she leans her head on his shoulder (he used to think it endearing). "Where are we going?"_

_He's learned to ignore her when she contradicts herself like this, but it rarely (never) makes it better. He only allows a meager lengthening of the lips, and emulates his foster (not really) father in saying, very Britishly, "You'll see."_

_She giggles again, and Xiang pauses to press his lips to her cheekbone just as he sweeps her inside his limousine (because he is traditional if nothing else). She is as light as the blossoms she (Xiang) cherishes (for her)._

_"Surprise me, Xiang-xiang," Taiwan giggles, and wraps her arms around his neck, raising her head. He obliges her in what they had skipped in the church (because he is dutiful if nothing else)._

_When their lips touch, he can smell something sweeter and softer than plum blossoms (and everything else sours)._

* * *

Meiguo is loud and oily, his eyes bright as broken glass, his hair like fractured sunbeams. He is exhausted by the strife and warfare still going on between his people, and at times Xiang thinks China's system is better – but then he recalls the dark circles under _Yao's_ eyes, and his delusion ceases. The plum blossom girl will be here, he thinks. Nothing ever stopped her.

Xiang positions himself behind China and takes notes on the meeting.

They will meet in the kitchen, because nothing ever stopped her and she is a ward of China. He understands, he thinks, and returns to his note taking, his thick reams of paper and fountain pen gilded with the image of plum blossoms.

And when he retires to the kitchen during the break to make a cup of tea, she isn't there. He tries hard to convince himself that he isn't disappointed; there was no cause for her to attend the meeting, and therefore he should not have had any expectations.

He succeeds.

_

* * *

She giggles, her head resting on his shoulder, and his hand moves up to pat her hair absentmindedly. It is a classic – Jane Eyre is, but Taiwan is no Jane Eyre, nor he, Mr. Rochester (or he would have gone blind a long time ago, a thousand God-forsaken weddings ago), and there is no Mason to intervene._

_Just as well, he thinks, and his hand twines in Taiwan's hair (stringy and slightly damp; it is hot at this time of the year, but Taiwan insists on June weddings and romance)._

_They watch the movie among thousands of others in the movie theater, Xiang's hand twined in her hair._

* * *

She smiles at him, and pats his cheek. "Hey, _Xianggang_. Do you still remember me?"

He nods mutely, fills his cup with Kool-Aid (Meiguo's treat to the CCC conference, and a fuming Denmark) and turns away to surreptitiously stick out his tongue to catch a glimpse of chlorine-swimming-pool blue. Not ocean. The ocean isn't blue anywhere, anymore. Denmark can fume about that.

Then she pinches his cheeks, and squeals, _Kawaii!_ He is not amused.

Japan's camera flashes; the owner is not apologetic at all. China arrives, and shoves a notebook and pencil into his hands.

Xiang has no problems with being relegated to secretary duty if he can get away from his long-lost sister. He blames his memory; he must be getting senile.

_

* * *

They watch the fireworks afterwards from the balcony of their hotel room (the finest in Hong Kong, and the honeymoon suite; nothing less). She smiles, eyes childishly vibrant, and he leans over to cut up her room-service dinner for her (because he is dutiful if nothing else)._

_She catches his hand as he reaches up to feed her, her eyes curiously mischievous (unhinged). He is not alarmed, simply because it is her. The plum blossom girl he spent his life chasing after (wasted, wasted, wasted)._

_"Yes?" he says softly, and her smile only grows broader; "Yes?" he repeats, just to hear himself speak; "Yes?" he questions, to have her answer._

_"Have a drink, Xiang-xiang. You should enjoy yourself, too," she insists (oddly, unnaturally, abnormally) tenderly, raising a wineglass to his lips. He leans down cautiously to take a sip just as the piece of steak on his (her) fork slips into her red, red mouth. Is she wearing lipstick? It looks pretty on her (red, like blood, like lamb's blood and politically incorrect veal, medium rare please)._

_It is fine wine, is France's merlot, 1997. Xiang thinks of Mnemosyne, her nine children, and all things pleasant._

* * *

He rarely visits a nightclub, simply because China likes to drag him away from his nightlife and get drunk during night-time karaoke sessions to bemoan Japan, aru, and stupid inflation from the boom economy. China never had perfect English, but America is using that phrase, too.

The eyes of the world are on China, and the man is bound to trip up sometime. Secretly, in a corner of his mind, Xiang minds and likes that.

Tonight, however, Taiwan joins them with a can of 'Coke' and a large grin. She and China sing several songs by Jay Chou before China passes out, glasses askew. It is a poor disguise. Xiang scoffs, and Taiwan looks around for a new karaoke partner. Her eyes are bleary when they land on him.

"Sing with me, Xiang-xiang!" She giggles, drags him on the stage. A microphone is shoved in his hands, uncomfortably reminiscent of secretary duty.

When she picks _Ju Hua Tai _by Jay Chou, however, and proceeds to sing at all the wrong times, he finds it quite all right.

Later in the night, when she lands on his chest, her lips on his, he finds she is not as think as he drunks she is.

At least she still has good grammar.

_

* * *

Ten-or-so glasses later, Xiang is flat on his back as Taiwan straddles him, placing her red, red lips on his. He knows for sure that she put lipstick on now because he can taste it (Avon? Meiguo_ did_ give her free samples)._

_They make love (hahaha, laughs China~aru, and Xiang imagines punching him), and Taiwan cuddles him later, placing her lips to his chest and whispering, "I love you, love you, love you."_

_He knows for sure that she is tipsy now, because she only says that after they have a drink or twelve. Thirteen is inauspicious; both of them know that even when stoned on whatever the occasion calls for, and they avoid stopping on that number. Fourteen means death, sixteen is lucky, and a hundred never causes any trouble aspirin cannot fix in the morning (because they are exquisitely vulnerable in that way)._

* * *

"Good morning, Xiang. Did you have a good time last night?"

"Yes. How are you feeling?"

"I have a hangover, but it's OK. Do you have any aspirin?"

"You are not okay if you need aspirin in the morning. I have your return ticket to Taipei."

"Give me the aspirin, Xiang, and I will be OK. You're so cute and sweet when you're thoughtful!"

"Here."

"Wanna try getting drunk with me next time? I'm sure you'll like it."

"..."

"You can come with me to a karaoke club in Taipei next time. I know a good place with high quality service and none of the cheapness like Yao-gege's place. You could pass for twenty years old, I think. Or a very cute twenty-five-year-old."

"Very well."

"Good. Now, where's my ticket? You'll escort me to the plane terminal, won't you? Always such a gentleman, my Xiang."

"I will."

"It's a date, then."

_

* * *

She wakes up next morning to delicious breakfast and Xiang in a stiff-collared overcoat, eyes dark (pensive). Xiang only gestures to the meal and goes to the adjoining room to settle his business._

_The honeymoon is over, and they are back to business. He knows that. They both know that. (They are relieved, because the honeymoon never existed anyway and this is only another lie, like the lace-and-satin wedding dress already packed in Styrofoam for shipping. They are just in another stage. Denial.)_

_He throws away the wine bottle from the prior night, and makes a call to China on ibuprofen. China does not hesitate or reason, does not protest or tell him to take a break (and Xiang despises him for that, because it is all his fault, all his fault, and the illusion is shattered)._

_"I'll pick you up at Hong Qiao Ji Chang~aru," China informs him, quiet and placating in his hangover voice. "I'm attending a meeting in Shanghai, and it concerns you."_

_Good. Xiang needs a (unnecessary) cold water shower, now._

* * *

True to her word, Taiwan takes him on a date to a karaoke club in Taipei sometime. However, they do go to a movie theater soon after and Taiwan squeals and screams her way through, clutching to Xiang's coat. He wonders if she had also gotten a love for scary movies from Meiguo, and not only his missiles.

She still smells of plum blossoms in the rain, however, and he hopes she will not develop a liking for hamburgers. Caramel-covered popcorn and Sprite is enough; he thinks he must schedule a visit to the dentist, considering how much Taiwan insists on feeding him.

Then he reasons it is only pop culture. He likes it, too.

_

* * *

Let's get married, she says, for the (he can't remember)th time._

_He nods instead of smiling, because it's just him and he knows she won't be offended, and closes his eyes._

_And remembers (because it's not worth forgetting yet)._

**

* * *

Notes:**

-Hong Kong is referring to the moment of his birth (more or less immaterial) and when he is ceded to England as an English colony.

-The vows used in Hong Kong and Taiwan's ceremony are, I believe, a traditional Catholic vow.

-Saint Bartholomew was a Christian martyr who was skinned alive for his faith. He is depicted in Michelangelo's rendering of the _Last Jadgement_, which can be seen in the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, Rome. The face of the skin in Michelangelo's Bartholomew is Michelangelo himself, in his moments of self-questioning.

**-**_Kami_ has no plural or singular form, as Japanese is a language with light intonation, like Chinese. Sometimes _kami-sama_ is used to denote a single _kami_, and _kami _more than one.

-Mnemosyne is the Greek goddess of memory; her nine children, the Muses, were conceived when she and Zeus had intercourse for nine consecutive times.

-The Chinese are superstitious regarding numbers. In popular Chinese superstition, one and zero are generally neutral, but students sometimes eat a leek and two eggs or a fried dough stick and two round pieces of bread on the morning of the test to get a good score. This is thought to date back to the time when Confucian Civil Service Exams were administered in China. Four represents death because of its pronunciation in Chinese, _si;_ the pinyin correspond, but not the tones. Six is considered lucky in accordance to the Chinese saying: 六六大顺, the latter part of which means 'all will go well.'


End file.
